


Hell's Consort

by Fishfur123



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Interspecies Relationship(s), Mild S&M, Multi, Original Character Death(s), Sharing a Bed, Warnings May Change, not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-03-30 00:52:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13939077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishfur123/pseuds/Fishfur123
Summary: Amara tells of her life in hell. This is a stand-alone fic and will have multiple chapters. As in my other fic, Mephisto is the real Devil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This stand-alone fic is not a continuation of my other Mephisto/Amara fic. I am still working on that fic, but this story wanted to be written.

My name is Amara Juliana Olivians Aquilla. I am a Human female, and I am also a mutant. I was a hero once, but that was a long time ago, in a different place. Now I am in Hell, and I mean that literally. Hell isn't a state of mind, it's a very real place. But I didn't get here the usual way, which is by comitting terrible sins. I came to Hell voluntarily when I accepted an offer of marriage from the Devil. 

Sometimes I wonder why I made the deal with Mephisto. I thought I could handle being Hell's consort, after all, I had great power. I believed that love could conquer all. That was a long time ago, when I was very young and still quite innocent. And foolish, very foolish, too. I miss being innocent - back then I didn't understand what that really means, but now I do. I've learned a lot since then, but Mephisto says I am still innocent in some ways. That's just another lie. He's the Prince of Lies, after all, and lying comes as easily to him as breathing comes to me. 

Today is a regular day in Hell, which means it's absolutely terrible. The fetid air is filled with the deafening howls and shrieks of tortured souls. There's no sun in this place, light comes from the mystical fires that burn everywhere. I sit by the edge of a precipice, staring at the flaming river that carries the souls of the damned. Those that catch a glimpse of me beg for help, holding out their charred hands. I never reach for them, but it isn't fear of burning myself on their molten flesh. Thanks to my mutant power I'm impervious to fire, even unearthly Hell fire can't burn me. 

I know better than to offer help to the damned, I learned the hard way. Their fate is sealed, I couldn't save them if I wanted to. No, the reason for my refusal sits on a throne right behind me, watching my every move. The Lord of Hell prefers to call himself Mephisto, but he's better known as the Devil, and he doesn't miss a thing. He enjoys my helplessness as much as he enjoys the suffering of the tortured souls. Pain and misery are sweet and delightful to him, and he takes his pleasure any way he can.

Hearing his soft chuckle causes me to break out in a cold sweat. Mephisto in a good mood is nearly as dangerous as Mephisto in a bad mood. What is he planning now, I wonder. Whatever he plans is bound to cause pain and misery to somebody, and it's more than likely me he has in mind. I am the Devil's consort, and he likes to call me the queen of Hell, his co-ruler. But there is only one who rules Hell, and he doesn't share. I am only the first of Mephisto's many slaves, and this is my life story.


	2. Chapter 2

I was born into a wealthy and influential family. My parents doted on their only child and made sure I had the best of everything. My education was handled by the best teacher Nova Roma could provide, and I was a diligent student. Our little family lived in a palace in a city which had no equal, the home of the new Roman empire. We lived like the ancient Roman had done centuries ago. I didn't know the outside world until my home, my family and the city were brutally destroyed. I miss my old life so much, but I can't remember how my parents looked. I can't recall my mother's face or my father's voice. The past is gone, and every day I remember less. But I will never forget that I was happy once, in that shining city in the heart of the vast green forest. 

Mephisto likes to remind me that being the only daughter of an important family made me a desirable commodity, a precious gem to trade for additional riches and power. He's right about that fact. I was expected to marry young, and marry well. This is the way it's always been, and I knew my parents were going to arrange a marriage for me. They would be sure to make a good choice for their prized girl, and I would go from my father's home to my husband's. But fate had other plans for me, I never became a respectable matron. Sometimes I wonder if I would have been a good wife for some Nova Roman nobleman. Now I am wife to the Devil, and when he feels generous Mephisto tells me I am his Beloved, his precious Amara, consort of his heart, confidant of his dark soul. His words still have the power to move me, I won't deny it. He is capable of great charm, and his honeyed words touch my heart even when I know better. He is the Lord of Lies, and his kindness is but another deceit. Mephisto gives nothing freely, and his goodwill comes at a high cost. Heavily armed demons step up to the shore of the flaming river to catch souls for the nightly flogging. The damned wail as the monstrous demons reach into the fire to drag out the unfortunate ones. Even though they are souls their shapes resemble what they once were - men, women and children of all races. Only now they are uniformly colored, red and charred black, frail but substantial enough to suffer agonies. Mephisto's soft laughter cuts through the anguished cries, and the demons double their efforts to please their Lord. They know their lives depend on his whim, and many die at his hands. In Hell, all are slaves to the Devil. 


	3. Chapter 3

Hell is a reflection of the Devil's mind. He shapes his realm according to his whims whenever it suits him. Mephisto never tires of designing infernal landscapes and new modes of torture. Currently he's arranged the reception area in what he calls a traditional tableau. After death, the newly damned arrive in a place of fire and brimstone, peopled by redskinned, horned demons armed with pitchforks. Here, the sinners are assigned to their permanent stations within the seven circles of Hell. Again, a traditional concept, although I'm not sure if Mephisto stole the idea from Dante's writing or if Dante was influenced by Mephisto. 

The Devil likes to be creative. He's quickly bored by what he considers normal forms of torture like scourging, flaying and dismembering. So he's come up with new concepts such as a tide of broken glass errupting to engulf the damned while razorblades rain from the iron gray sky. Living engines of destruction plow through the ranks of the dammed and grow fat on a steady diet of flesh and blood. The newly arrived souls keep the engines working, as labor and fodder alike. Acid streams are filled with the wastes of the machines, and slowly the souls recombine to begin the cycle anew. There are other Hellscapes, some so abstract they defy description. All are forever designed to process the never ending stream of fallen souls.

But Hell is more than just a place to torture the fallen. It's also where the Devil and his servants live. As Mephisto's consort I have the honor of sharing living quarters in his castle, which he imaginatively calls "Mephisto's keep." Raised from the bedrock of Hell by sheer will of force, the castle looms forbidding in the shadow of eternal fires. Here is where we live as a couple, entertain our guests and house our children. Or rather, here is where our children used to live, when they lived. 

"It's time, my love. Are you ready?", a deep, sultry voice whispers close by. "Let us return to our keep and celebrate!" What are we celebrating, I wonder. Did I miss a special occasion? Before I can ask a forked tongue flicks out to delicately trace the contours of my ear, and when I flinch slightly the Beast standing at my side chuckles softly.


	4. Chapter 4

With his hand on the small of my back he guides me towards the dining hall. His talons slowly trace up and down my spine, with just enough pressure to make me uncomfortable. Ever the gentleman, Mephisto pulls out a chair and offers me a seat. The table is piled high with foods from every corner of the world, and maybe even other worlds. The scents of the dishes are at once enticing and repulsive. I am hungry but I have little desire to eat, the mere sight of the heaped serving dishes turns my stomach. Right before my plate is a bowl filled with exotic fruits, some of which are native to Brazil. I reach out for a particularly succulent piece, but as soon as it's in my hand a fat worm squirms out and drops onto my plate. Disgusted, I brush the plate, worm and fruit off the table. A demon hurries to clean up the mess, and Mephisto smiles sweetly as he offers me another piece of fruit, this one unspoiled. "It's so hard to get good help these days. Don't you agree, my love? What is the appropriate punishment for serving spoiled, wormy fruit?", he asks, and the demon server trembles so violently the drops what he's just picked up. "It's nothing, my love, it's my fault entirely. I should have inspected the fruit more carefully." I say, hoping to save the demon servant from certain death. "If you insist, my love. But I fear the servants will consider your reluctance to assign blame to the guilty a weakness. And surely you'll agree that the queen of Hell should never, ever show weakness?" my husband asks, and it's then I know that the servant will die. There's nothing I can do or say to sway Mephisto's mind. "As you wish, my lord, your will be done." I hate myself for agreeing, and I hate the smile forming on Mephisto's face, exposing his shark teeth. "You have such a way with words, my love." he purrs and beckons the server to approach him. "You will report to the torture chambers immediately. Let me see ... yes, tell whoever's on duty you're to be drawn and quartered. And take the rest of the kitchen staff along so they learn how not to serve their queen! Will this please you, my love?" Mephisto asks. "Or should we have the entire staff executed?" He asks for my agreement only because it makes me a collaborator in the upcoming executions. I'm not popular among the demons, and the news that the entire kitchen staff was slaughtered for my pleasure will soon be known in every corner of Hell. I know it won't make a difference if I voice my reservations, it's only going to enrage the Devil. "You will do as you wish, my lord", I say and watch an angry frown replace the grin on Mephisto's face. He will make me pay for this refusal to play along. 

My mutant powers are fueled by the fiery heart of the planet Earth. My magma form makes me into living fire, and Mephisto likes me to assume this form. My fire can't hurt him, but his fiery realm increases my power. We are both creatures of fire and flame and we feed off each others powers. 

I'm not sure where this Hell is located. Some say it's in a pocket dimension, close and yet far from Earth. I do know Hell is not in the molten core of the planet, I've been there. Mephisto hasn't told me where our home is, but he's arranged it so I can travel from here to Earth and back again. He himself is a powerful teleporter, and can go wherever he wishes effortlessly. Sometimes he takes me along for a trip. Mephisto has shown me the wonders of the universe, and we've traveled within dimensions and time itself. Some of those trips were for sheer fun because the Devil gets quickly bored in Hell and likes to seek excitement elsewhere. Other trips were for work, and they weren't fun at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time of posting there were problems with the website. I may edit this chapter later, but for right now it's better to post than lose the chapter.


End file.
